Page 96

44

D awn had risen while Teryn had been watching Emylia’s memories. Now morning light streamed through the windows into the halls of Ridine, bathing the flagstones in pink and gold. It would have been a beautiful morning were it not for Teryn’s dread. And the fact that he was a disembodied spirit, of course, but that was hardly novel anymore. His feeling of unease grew with every step Morkai took down the quiet halls, mostly empty save for the servants who were already busy at work. The servants bowed when they saw Morkai, recognizing him as Prince Teryn, and Morkai gave them all friendly smiles.

It was his smile—his overly calm demeanor—that chilled Teryn the most.

Having projected their etheras outside the crystal, Teryn and Emylia followed in the sorcerer’s wake. Teryn had expected an air of frantic urgency to surround Morkai after having lost the most vital piece of his plan. Instead, Morkai walked with poise. Purpose. Fearlessness.

If that wasn’t unsettling enough, the streaks of white running through Morkai’s hair— Teryn’s hair—sent a splinter of panic through him. He hardly dared look too long at the deepening hollows in his cheeks, the purple rimming his eyes. Emylia had warned him that his body hadn’t responded well to his fight with Morkai for control. His only solace was that anyone who got close enough to the sorcerer would surely notice these things. The servants hadn’t acted like anything was amiss, but they were trained to be polite. Anyone else, though…Master Arther, Mareleau… someone would notice there was something seriously wrong with the man pretending to be Teryn. Right?

Finally, Morkai came to the closed door of the king’s study. Teryn had been there before. He’d met with Morkai there after the duke had captured Cora and hauled her to Ridine under the pretense of returning her to her place as princess. That was before Teryn had fully understood what was happening at Ridine. Even then, he’d regretted his betrayal. Hated the duke.

Morkai opened the door to reveal Lord Kevan behind the king’s desk, brow furrowed as he read over what appeared to be a contract. At his side stood Lord Ulrich, expression somehow both bored and smug at the same time. Morkai closed the door behind him and approached the desk. Emylia went to the window behind Kevan and stared outside at the blushing sunrise, a note of longing in her face, as if she remained haunted by the memories she’d shown him. Teryn took up post beside the desk where he could see all three men clearly.

Kevan glanced up from the contract. His eyes went wide as they darted up to the top of Morkai’s head. “What the seven devils happened to your hair?”

Teryn’s pulse quickened. There . Someone did notice.

Ulrich huffed a laugh. “Have you slept, Highness? Or were you kept up with premarital jitters?”

Morkai simply smirked at the questions as he lowered himself into a chair at the other side of the desk. “What, you don’t like my natural color? Not all of us are skilled at maintaining the facades of ink and dyes.” He winked at Ulrich, whose dark bowl cut glittered with gray at the roots. “Perhaps I got tired of hiding. I think it’s time we all show candor, don’t you?”

Kevan returned his gaze to the contract, already disinterested in the man he thought was Teryn. “Where is Princess Aveline, Highness? The Godspriest will be here any moment. You and the princess—well, I suppose I should call her queen—must sign your marriage contract at once.”

Morkai leaned back in his chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, hands interlaced at his waist. It was very much the duke’s posture and not Teryn’s. “I’ve already sent a message informing the Godspriest we’ll have no need for him this morning.”

Kevan’s eyes bulged as he looked up from the contract once more. “Why the seven devils?—”

“Aveline is gone.”

Silence fell over the room. Emylia slowly turned from the window to watch what would happen next.

Ulrich cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She ran away in the middle of the night.”

Kevan stood in a rush. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t know what drove her away. Perhaps the pressures of the crown were too much for her.”

Kevan burned him with a scowl. “Do you jest, Highness?”

Morkai met his stare without falter. “No.”

“Verdian will be here within days for the signing of the pact,” Kevan said through his teeth. “He entrusted Khero to us. If he sees the kingdom has fallen apart under our watch, he’ll?—”

“He’ll what?” Morkai let out a dark chuckle. “You’re councilmen of Khero now. Verdian has no power here.”

“On the contrary, Highness, Verdian can usurp Khero in the blink of an eye. That was implied from the start when he and Dimetreus negotiated his and Aveline’s freedom.”

“Then shouldn’t he be grateful to you? Or am I to believe he was being generous in staking such a firm claim on this kingdom? If anything, it seems like he wanted Dimetreus’ regime to fail, and the two of you along with it.”

Kevan’s face burned red, lips pursed tight.

Ulrich took a step forward, teeth bared. “Watch how you speak about King Verdian, Highness.”

Morkai shrugged. “I speak only the truth, and I’m going to speak true now. Verdian was right to suspect Princess Aveline and King Dimetreus as incapable of ruling Khero. Dimetreus is a madman and Aveline is both too soft and too volatile for the pressures of the crown.”

“That we can agree on,” Kevan bit out.

“Which is why,” Morkai said, “you should name me King of Khero.”

Teryn and Emylia exchanged a startled glance.

Kevan and Ulrich seemed equally as perplexed. “Why the seven devils would we do that?” Ulrich said with a disbelieving laugh.

Morkai slowly rose from his chair and stood before the desk. “Before Dimetreus had his mental fit and tried to kill me, we’d had a candid conversation. He’d confessed that I was just as much his heir as Aveline. And we all know that Aveline’s ascension to the throne was entirely dependent upon her marrying me.”

Kevan planted his hands on the surface of the desk. He clearly meant to appear intimidating, but with Morkai standing at Teryn’s body’s full height, the lord seemed more meek than threatening. Especially with how Morkai stared down his nose at the man. “You have no claim to Khero aside from being king consort,” Kevan said. “A title which is invalid without the princess.”

“And what right does Verdian have?” Morkai shook his head. “You may think I’m out of line for speaking against your dear brother, but we can at least agree that his motives were hardly genuine when he appointed the two of you here.”

Kevan said nothing, but Ulrich asked. “How so?”

Morkai spoke with practiced ease. “You went from the heads of Verdian’s council in Selay to the heads of council in Khero. I’m sure you were promised new lands and titles upon the signing of the peace treaty, and it seems a lateral move in terms of position. But we know the truth. Verdian’s real aim was to get you out of Selay to strengthen his daughter’s position as heir. A position she should no longer have now that she’s married into a new kingdom. He isn’t satisfied with her being Queen of Menah through marriage. No, he wants her to inherit Selay too. Wants to see two kingdoms join as one.”

The red seeped from Kevan’s face. He maintained his position with his palms on the desk, but Teryn could see the sudden interest that flashed in the man’s blue eyes.

Morkai spoke again. “You should be princes, both of you. At the very least, you should be Verdian’s heirs. Instead, he’s brought you here. And, like you’d begun to suggest, he’ll blame you for Khero’s current state, for its crazed king and missing princess. If you lose your positions on this council, you know he won’t welcome you back onto his. Your places have already been filled. And if he does decide to usurp Khero, he won’t keep the two of you in power. He’ll only be adding yet another kingdom to his reign. A reign his daughter will inherit.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kevan said, but his tone held little conviction. “Half of what you say is considered treason.”

“Like I said, I speak only truth. Let us not pretend otherwise.”

“So you think we should back you as king instead,” Ulrich said. His tone was brimming with disbelief, but his eyes were keen. Hungry.

“Dimetreus admitted that I am his heir,” Morkai said. “Despite Verdian’s lack of respect for his brothers, he did give the two of you ultimate power over accepting the line of succession should Dimetreus fail his duties. Back me as king and I’ll give you more than land and titles. Kevan, you should be Verdian’s heir, plain and simple. Support my claim, and I’ll support you as heir to Selay. We’ll work it into the negotiations over the treaty. And you, Ulrich, will be named Duke Calloway. You shall inherit the Calloway lands left by the former Duke Morkai.”

Ulrich’s eyes flashed with greed and a half smile tugged his lips.

Kevan, on the other hand, dropped into his seat and rubbed his thick brown beard. “There’s a reason neither of us were named Verdian’s heir,” he said, tone infused with a hint of indignation. “We have no royal blood. We are unrelated to the former king and are only related to Verdian through our shared mother. She remarried after the death of Verdian’s father, and it was his blood that put Verdian on the throne.”

Morkai barked a laugh. “They named a bastard a king. If they can do that, then surely a king’s brother can be named heir.”

Teryn bristled, hands curling into fists.

Kevan scoffed. “You say they like you weren’t a part of those negotiations. You abdicated your claim and supported your bastard brother.”

Teryn watched closely to see if Morkai showed any surprise, any sign that he was caught off guard by what Kevan had said. Morkai may have gleaned much about Cora, Dimetreus, and the current state of political unrest, but he knew little about Teryn’s personal matters.

Morkai, however, was unfazed. He turned a calculating grin on the man. “Just like I’m supporting you. If you must know why I refused my birthright, it was because I would have had to marry Verdian’s daughter to keep it. I wasn’t willing to do that. On the other hand, I was more than happy to wed Aveline, but she’s proven to be as weak as her brother. Now I only want what is best for Khero, and I am certain that is me. And what’s best for Selay is you, Kevan.”

Ulrich stepped closer. “You think we can get Verdian to agree to these terms? He could refuse.”

“He won’t refuse,” Morkai said. “Refusal can lead to war, and you’re only asking for what’s fair. Besides, you’ve taken away a portion of his military. The men who serve under your houses fight for you , which means they now fight for Khero. He won’t want to go up against that.”

Kevan narrowed his eyes. “We are not resorting to war with Verdian.”

“These negotiations will be friendly, trust me. We’ll hold them during a celebration. A hunt. Instead of signing the pact here, we’ll solidify the treaty outdoors, where the environment feels neutral. The three of us will stake out a private place to hold our grand hunt, and when Verdian and Larylis arrive, they will meet us there.”

Kevan and Ulrich exchanged a weighted look, one that spoke of greed, desperation, and trepidation.

“Is there a reason you’re proposing an isolated location for the meeting?” Ulrich said, brow arched.

Morkai lifted his chin. “Should there be?”

Neither man answered. They exchanged another questioning glance, but this time there was no trepidation. Only hunger. Avarice.

Teryn glanced at Emylia. “Is he using magic right now? A…glamour? Like what he did to Dimetreus?”

She shook her head. “He isn’t strong enough to create any lasting glamour. Not without a Roizan. All he’s doing is playing into their desires.”

Teryn shuddered. It was far more unsettling than if he’d been using magic, for this showed exactly what kind of men Kevan and Ulrich were.

“If you’d rather stand opposite me,” Morkai said, “by all means say so at once. But I’d rather have your support, Prince Kevan. And yours, Duke Calloway.”

Teryn was tempted to hold his breath for their answer, but he forced himself to keep his breathing steady, drawing air evenly into his lungs.

Kevan finally spoke. “Very well, Your Highness?—”

“No. I’ll need you to address me as Your Majesty now. I will take my place as king from this moment on. We’ll keep it between us until after the pact has been signed. For now, it is enough that my heads of council name me king and show obeisance.”

Kevan flushed, jaw tense as if he were about to argue.

Ulrich shared no such hesitation. He fell to one knee, head bowed. “My king.”

Morkai nodded. “Duke Calloway.”

Kevan’s eyes were steely, but he bent into a stiff bow. “Your Majesty, King Teryn.”

“Thank you for your support, Prince Kevan.” With that, Morkai exited the study, a figurative crown upon his brow. One he’d managed to claim without magic. Without war.

The prophetic words Emylia had spoken in her memory echoed through his head.

To gain the power of the Morkaius, one must first become King of Magic, a crown given, not taken…

The prophecy had said nothing about official coronations or ceremonies. Had given no other stipulations. Which likely meant all Morkai needed was the outward acknowledgment of those qualified to give it. Based on the alliance terms Dimetreus had accepted, Kevan and Ulrich were qualified.

Morkai—with Teryn’s name and body—was King of Khero.

The sorcerer had only two crowns left to earn, and he’d make his move during this hunt he’d concocted for the signing of the pact. Teryn couldn’t imagine how the sorcerer would succeed without using force that would be considered taking , but after what he’d just witnessed, he harbored no hope that Morkai didn’t already have a plan.